


"In Merlin's bed"

by Adarog (RembrandtsWife)



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-10
Updated: 2009-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/Adarog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's still almost impossible to ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"In Merlin's bed"

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=glimmergirl)[**glimmergirl**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=glimmergirl), "Rimming. Bottom!Arthur. In Merlin's bed." I used two out of three.

It's late when Arthur climbs the steps to the tower rooms. The candle wavers behind his hand, making a mad swirl of shadows on the walls, but it's all right: His feet know the way. How many nights has he done this, now, since his coronation? How many nights has he left the wide lordly bed in the king's chambers, the bed that is still his alone, to find peace and rest beside his friend and lover?

When Gaius died, Merlin took over his rooms. When Arthur was able, finally, to lift his father's ban and appoint Merlin his court sorceror, he'd offered to re-furbish them. Merlin had accepted the offer but hadn't let Arthur give him a new bed. "I like this bed," he said, with a smile whose meaning only Arthur understood.

The outer door of the chambers is closed but not locked. A candle is still burning on the stone worktable, and the inner door stands ajar. Merlin always seems to know; is it something about his magic, or just the wisdom of loving? Arthur shoulders through into Merlin's bedroom.

The long shape in the narrow bed turns over. The candle flame lights up Merlin's angular face, his sleepy smile. "Thought you'd come." Arthur puts down the candle on an empty shelf and closes the door, toes off his slippers and drops his robe. Merlin lifts aside the blankets and makes room for him in the narrow bed.

There isn't any room to spare. Two men must lie back to back, or chest to chest, heart to heart. Cold from his walk through the night castle, Arthur reaches for Merlin's warmth, soft shaggy hair covering twining fingers, lips that part for his kiss, chest and belly and legs. Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur and hooks a leg over his hip; one hand slips up to the tight muscles of neck and shoulders, one slips down to cup a hard buttock.

Arthur is leaner than he used to be; kingship is harder work than princedom. Merlin has grown into his bones; eating at the high table has put weight on him, running and walking have turned that weight to muscle. He let his hair grow out a bit and stopped shaving the fine dark growth along his upper lip and jaw. He's not a boy any more, but Arthur still wants him; there was never any doubt that he wanted Merlin for himself, not as a substitute for a girl. The king could have any woman he wants, and he'll have to take a woman soon, sire heirs of his own. Gwen, probably Gwen, Gwen will help... but right now he only wants Merlin.

Merlin kneads shoulder and back and hip and thigh. "So tense, so cold--you should have put on that fur-lined robe, you've got to take care of yourself...." Concerns muffled against Arthur's jaw, Arthur's neck. Arthur shudders when Merlin's teeth find his shoulder, Merlin's hand finds his cock at the same moment.

Merlin pets his hair, kisses his mouth again, lightly. "What do you need?"

"You. Just--"

It's still next to impossible to ask. Fortunately, Merlin seems not to mind divining what's needed and giving it without making Arthur say it. Please, Merlin, please, fuck me, God, I need to be fucked tonight. He kisses Merlin, hard, and finds his cock and works it with pleading strokes until Merlin backs off, stills his hand. "All right, yeah, just lie back. Don't want to spill right into your hand."

Arthur lies back and looks up at the ancient ceiling. Coals hiss in the brazier Merlin keeps here so they don't feel the cold so much when the covers get flung away. A pause, and then Merlin settles on top of Arthur, skin almost hot, his eyes glowing a bit in the dimness so maybe there's magic at work here. But he kisses like an ordinary man.

He kisses and strokes his way down Arthur's body until he's kneeling between Arthur's legs, fingers curled around Arthur's cock. Arthur bites his lip so he doesn't whimper outright when Merlin takes the head into his mouth. He doesn't have to bed and plead; Merlin will give him what he wants, will give him more. He trusts in this. And Merlin does give him more, gradually taking him deeper until he's sucking the full length, his lips brushing Arthur's curls. And then his warm slick finger seeks between the cheeks of Arthur's arse.

Merlin sucks harder and Arthur spreads his legs wider. The slick finger strokes across his arsehole, gently, soothingly. Merlin's tongue flutters beneath his cock-head, and Arthur doesn't resist when the finger slips inside.

This is how they do it. Sometimes Arthur wishes Merlin would just roll him over and shove it in, take him, use him, ride him, break him. But it *would* break him. He knows this, and so does Merlin. They do it this way, Merlin gradually backing off from his cock as his fingers probe deeper, as he adds more sweet oil till two fingers slip easily in and out, as he rubs at that spot inside that makes Arthur tense and go limp, tense and go limp, until at last he can't bear it any longer and says, "Now. Please, now."

He opens his eyes so he can see Merlin kneeling there, so he can move into place. Merlin drizzles oil on Arthur's cock, then more on his own, and guides himself in with one hand. Arthur groans, wordless with relief.

"I've got you." An oily hand settles on his chest; another wraps around his cock. "I've got you." Merlin shifts, presses deeper. "Going to fuck you now."

Yes. Arthur's eyes go closed again; his whole body goes limp. He's filled, violated, completed, used, fucked. Merlin can last a long time, keep control and go slowly, be gentle even as he says filthy things. "I'm going to fuck you now, your majesty. You like my cock up your arse, oh yes. The great king Arthur Pendragon, spread out in a servant's bed with a cock up his arse, getting fucked. Because he wants it, oh, yeah, he needs it. That's right, get your legs up here. Your prick is still hard, you want to come? you want to come with my prick deep inside you. Oh, Arthur, how gorgeous you are. I want to fuck you until you cry. I want to come, I want to come inside you--"

Merlin's face is close to his now, his hips slamming Arthur's arse in a desperate rhythm, his hand hard and merciless on Arthur's cock, and it won't be long for either of them, and he manages a few more words, "Oh Arthur, oh god, you slut, I love you so much--"

Merlin comes, filling Arthur with that wet heat, and his words and his hands and his glittering eyes wring Arthur's climax out of him.

They lie there for a bit, until Arthur has to spit Merlin's hair out of his mouth; it's fallen all over his face. Merlin laughs, raises up, and gently moves away. Arthur hears him pour water into a basin and murmur a spell; the water's warm, nearly hot, when the wet rag touches Arthur and wipes him clean.

Arthur feels too good to move. And all the pillows are beneath his head. He doesn't complain when Merlin wraps around him, leg over his legs, head in the hollow of his shoulder, and magics the covers back into place over them. Sorcery has its advantages.

"Good night, my love."

"Good night," Arthur returns. He doesn't say I love you, but he knows he'll say it the next time he fucks Merlin.


End file.
